


And here’s to you, Ms. Summers!

by GingerKI



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerKI/pseuds/GingerKI
Summary: Why on earth, he wondered, would anyone want to get married in this church, given its claim to fame?





	And here’s to you, Ms. Summers!

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the final scene of the classic American film "The Graduate" (1967), directed by the late (great) Mike Nichols and written by Buck Henry and Calder Willingham, based on the 1963 novel of the same name by Charles Webb.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> In short, I do not own anything Joss would want and he owns a lot of stuff I do. I'm doing this solely to amuse myself and, maybe on a good day, entertain others. I leave that to them to decide.
> 
> This is rated teen and up mostly because of Spike's potty mouth. And what a pretty, pouty, potty mouth it is.

**The United Methodist Church**

**LaVerne, CA**

**October 2006**

“Oh, dear God,” Giles muttered to himself as he emerged from his rental car in the church parking lot.

He hadn’t put it together when he received the address for the rehearsal but then why would he? Now that he was looking at the building, the familiarity elevated his already-present sense of impending doom. Why on earth, he wondered, would _anyone_ want to get married in _this_ church, given its claim to fame? Groom’s family parish, groom’s choice, since Buffy wasn’t the churchgoing sort and was happy to oblige the family she would be joining with hers. Clearly, they lacked the background knowledge to realize that this choice of venue was a little like spitting in the eye of fate and, therefore, ill advised.

While he had been honored when Buffy asked him to walk her down the aisle, apparently to the chagrin of her father who would also be in attendance and seated upfront with his second wife and baby alongside Joyce’s sister, the rehearsal dinner was bound to be an awkward affair to which he was not at all looking forward. Perhaps that was the source of his unease. Blinking into the late afternoon California sun, once so familiar but now seeming like a feature of another man’s life since his surprisingly easy readjustment to life in England, he chastised himself for the self-subterfuge. He knew full well what was making him uneasy. Or rather whom. But it wasn’t just _him_ it was _her_. _Them._

Despite the paternal honor bestowed upon him, he and his former charge were not as close as they had once been. She was a grown woman and no longer his responsibility. Besides, with thousands of slayers now activated across the globe, they were no longer duty bound to one another in the way they had once been. Therefore, the challenge of gently broaching the subject seemed insurmountable. She simply did not speak of _him_. In fact, he had only heard her speak of him _once_ in the three years since her formal interview with the reconstituted Council to document the closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth. It was several months later when she had overheard Andrew let slip that he was back and, even then, a mere three words delivered in a tone that courted no further discussion.

_“Good for him.”_

Giles crossed the carpark, entered the vestibule and glanced through the glass doors into the sanctuary, which appeared empty. First one there apparently.

“Here for the Summers-Miller rehearsal?” a female voice spoke from behind him.

Turning to find a bookish, bespectacled 40-something woman wearing a clerical collar he replied,

“Indeed. Rupert Giles. I’ll will be escorting Miss Summers down the aisle. Apologies, but I appear to be rather early. I came straight from lunch with an old friend in Santa Monica and wasn’t entirely certain where I was going or what type of traffic I’d encounter along the way so I left ample time.”

“I am Pastor Brickell but I’d prefer it if you call me Susan. No worries, I’m expecting the wedding party within a half hour. I have a few calls to make before then but please…” she opened the door to the sanctuary and gestured then continued, “Feel free to take a seat. May I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“Very kind of you but no, thank you,” he replied with a nod.

“Okay then I will be back down in about 20 minutes. Welcome, Mr. Giles.”

“Thank you and I insist that you call me Rupert.”

With a single nod and a friendly smile, she left him alone. With his thoughts. His worries. He took a seat and the opportunity to replay in his mind the deeply unsettling events of the evening before.

* * * *

Buffy had arranged a block of rooms for out-of-town guests and a suite for herself and her bridal party while Kevin spent the last two nights before their wedding at his parent’s Marshall Canyon home. Having settled in after a long day of travel and enjoying a light meal, Giles decided on an evening constitutional. In his experience mild exercise and fresh air tended to help with the jet lag, along with avoiding both caffeine and alcohol on the travel day although, unbeknownst to him, the second part of that strategy would soon be shot to hell.

Having done a brisk loop around the hotel grounds, Giles strode into the pool area with the intention of re-entering the hotel through the back entrance when he spotted the bride-to-be at the far end under a tree. He was about to call out to her when something caught his eye that compelled him to stop dead in his tracks and immediately duck into the surrounding tree line.

Buffy was not alone. In the moonlight he caught a familiar shock of hair.

Moving a bit closer under the cover of the enthusiastic landscaping, he watched as her hand dropped from her visitor’s cheek. Giles nearly stopped breathing when said visitor took a step into Buffy’s personal space then told himself to calm down. She was merely closing another chapter of her old life. As she had done with Angel who, in fact, would be attending the wedding with his girlfriend, Nina. He expelled a sigh of relief when the visitor placed a chaste kiss to her forehead then turned away from her and immediately disappeared into the night as only he could. Feeling positively giddy with relief Giles allowed Buffy a few moments before stepping out into the open and walking casually towards the building with the intention of appearing to happen upon her. The valedictory moment he had just witnessed belonged to her and her alone.

As he got close enough to see his former charge’s beautiful face illuminated by moonlight he again stopped in his tracks, his relief evaporating for good this time at the stricken look he saw there. It was in that instant he realized with a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach that her eyes appeared more animated, more intrinsically the Buffy he knew, than at any moment since the destruction of Sunnydale. What happened next only served to confirm the worst. She stepped out from under the tree and, with a start, noticed him there at which point her face immediately shifted into the mask of serenity he suddenly with nauseating clarity understood that she wore ever since Spike had sacrificed himself to close the Hellmouth.

“Oh, hi, Giles!” she offered with a bright smile.

Ironic, he thought, the transition so seamless, organic. Rather like a vampire shifting between demon and human visages.

“Good evening, Buffy,” he replied warmly.

“Out for a walk?” she inquired evenly, although he was certain she was trying to gather whether he’d witnessed her encounter.

“Yes, it helps with the jet lag. You? You’re not…” He turned to gesture into the darkness.

“Patrolling? God no. I’m officially off duty until after the honeymoon at least. Maybe forever, who knows?”

She shrugged then went on, “Just getting a bit of fresh air myself. Kev and I have been here almost a week and the lag is only three hours for us, but it’s nice to be outside on a California evening. Reminds me of the bad old days. Don’t miss the bad part but not so much looking forward to a New York winter.”

“Pretty this time of year, though, with the color changes,” Giles remarked, his heart aching at how easily he and Buffy had slipped into a relationship based largely on small talk after everything they had been through together.

“Yeah, when we picked October we thought about having the wedding on the East Coast but all of Kev’s family is here and what there is of my family mostly is too. Of course, my _real_ family is scattered all over the place now.”

She smiled a smile so radiant that it made her former watcher want to believe the fiction of her happiness. It was like a knife to the gut. He wanted to take her into his arms and rock her like a child. He wanted to shake her until she told him what she was really feeling. Instead, he offered,

“Shall I escort you back to your room, Buffy?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Taking her arm, they strolled into the building in companionable silence. At her door, he avoided her forehead and leaned in to kiss her cheek instead then asked,

“So, Miss Summers, how are you feeling on your penultimate day as a single woman?”

“Happy, of course. How else would I feel? I have everything I could possibly want,” she replied adding, “Goodnight, Giles. See you tomorrow.”

The door to the suite closing in his face, Giles stood dumbly in the hallway for a beat then returned to his own room, making a beeline for the minibar. Jet lag be damned, desperate times and all that.

* * * *

Giles jumped at the sensation of a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Pastor Susan’s compassionate smile.

“You look very solemn for such a happy occasion.”

“Well, I suppose I am in a rather reflective mood.”

“Weddings are emotional. Anything I can do? My job’s not all psalms and sermons.” She smiled again and he realized that it really was a rather lovely smile.

_Enough of this, Rupert. It’s time to pull yourself together and bloody DO something._

But what? Well, he was an Englishman. He’d tackle the situation with good old British knowhow. First things first_._

“Actually, if it… wouldn’t be too much bother… I would rather appreciate that cup of tea.”

* * * *

Spike cut the engine on the bike well down the block from his destination but did not move. Instead he sat back on the seat, turned his gaze up to the early evening sky and tried to talk himself out of what he was about to do. If anyone had warned him what it would be like to have a soul he’d have skipped the whole sodding thing and walked into the sun instead the morning after he… after the single worst moment of his unlife. Okay, so Peaches had gone on… and on… and on about it, but he had always been an insufferable wanker, soul or soulless take your pick, so Spike had not been inclined to take his word for it.

Bloody confusing was what it was, having a soul. He had been so certain a mere 48 hours earlier. All evidence, but especially the near-crippling pain that made torture at the hands of a hellgod seem like a tickle by comparison, pointed to it. Really letting her go, letting go of all hope once and for all, was the right thing to do.

Until he’d seen the look in her eyes when he’d come to say goodbye which, because he was such a useless git, had also coincided with saying hello for the first time since he’d dusted in front of her. Until he’d felt her heartbeat quicken as he’d moved towards her to give her one last kiss. Not on the lips because he hadn’t trusted himself. Soul be damned he just wasn’t that strong. When it came to what his undead heart and the blood it didn’t pump wanted, he was weak as a kitten. A wee kitten. The runt of the litter that daft old birds like his landlady feed with dolly bottles. And yet, on his way to getting rip-roaringly pissed, a condition in which he would remain for the next 24 hours and had intended to maintain until she was gone, forever, he had almost managed to convince himself that the look in her eyes had been bittersweet and kind and not the least bit…

Until bloody Rupert buggering Giles had turned up at high noon, banging on his door to wake the dead and wake the dead he had. Even with a blinding hangover. And how had the tweedy one even managed to find him anyway? He’d only recently returned to L.A. and rented the in-law unit of a bungalow from a too-sweet-for-her-own-good old woman who lived alone and clearly hadn’t a lick of sense when it came to opening her home to whomever and sundry. He hadn’t even told Angel that he was back or where he was living. He had been tempted to slam the door in the watcher’s face but, per usual, his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

* * * *

“Have a seat,” Spike offered after clearing a pile of empties from the threadbare easy chair, the only other furniture in the room aside from the open futon where he had moments earlier been sleeping off yesterday’s bender until it was time to wake up and commence with today’s. He chose to remain standing.

“Thank you, you’re looking… monstrously hungover, but otherwise well.”

“S’pose I look the same. Vampire, remember? Sorry, don’t get the kind of traffic here used to get in the crypt back in Sunnydale. Waterloo bloody Station that was. Don’t have much to offer…”

Giles waved him off then squinted in the light cast by a single low-watt bulb in a shade-less lamp on the floor in the corner that appeared to have been fished out of a dumpster. Taking in the modest efficiency unit, he tried to picture her here, after months occupying well-appointed spaces in places like Brooklyn Heights and Marshall Canyon. Feeling his lips curl into a smile he shook off the image and began,

“I am rather pressed for time today so I’d best get to it.”

“Yeah, big day. Heard.”

“And, well, on that topic…”

“Listen, Rupert, you’ve come to warn me off then you’re wasting my time and your petrol. Already made my peace with it. Said goodbye to her.”

Toeing an empty bottle that lay near his feet Giles remarked, “And I suppose _this_ is your definition of ‘peace?’” Spike shrugged.

“And what about Buffy? _Her_ peace?” he continued.

“Not my business anymore, is it? S’pose it never was. Making it my business only disturbed it.”

“Until you sacrificed yourself to set her free.”

“Yeah, brilliant sacrifice that was. Nineteen sodding days.”

“Rather beside the point, wouldn’t you say? Is that why you stayed away?”

“Know none of you ever really believed in it but got a soul now, don’t I, and it was the right thing to do.”

Now Giles did allow a smile to form and even though he realized he was risking his own hide by doing so because the chip was long gone, he went ahead and said what he was thinking.

“That’s quite a ventriloquist act you and Angel have going.”

Spike’s eyes sparked with anger and Giles braced himself to be tossed across the room. But then the vampire slumped down onto the futon and dragged a hand across his face then sighed the heaviest sigh Giles figured he’d ever heard.

“What is this about, Watcher? Has the Council decided that William the Bloody Ponce deserves a reward for closing the Hellmouth and the Slayer’s it? Because if that’s it then you can shove…”

He paused, his head shot up and he asked, “It’s not… the bloke… I mean, he’s alright, yeah?”

“By all accounts and personal experience, the young Dr. Miller is a fine man with bright prospects and a wonderful future ahead of him. But let me make one thing absolutely clear: what you or Kevin Miller want from Buffy is utterly irrelevant to me. What matters is what _she_ wants.”

The hint of a sad smile gracing his lips, Spike observed, “Does have that effect, doesn’t she? Bit too. S’pose I feel about her like you do about the Slayer. Even if she does hate me.”

“Dawn doesn’t hate you, Spike, but that’s a concern for another day.”

Blinking through a thundering headache, the vampire said, “Wait… you were on about something… what… she… what…”

“Buffy wants,” Giles stated pointedly.

Spike shook his head in disbelief or denial or a combination of both, a constellation of emotions flickering in his bloodshot eyes. Only then did Giles realize what loving Buffy had cost him. It was the season of long-overdue epiphanies, apparently. The vampire shot up, grabbed his throbbing head and began to pace.

“No, can’t be right. Said yes to the bloke, didn’t she? Ever try to get her to do something she doesn’t want to, Rupert? ‘Course we both know you have and yet here I stand because if Nikki’s boy had staked me I wouldn’t have been sucked into a sodding amulet to spit me out again later. I’d have been gone for good. Bleeding impossible, she is, you know it!”

Glancing at his watch then casting his eyes heavenward Giles explained, “Ever since she watched you dust she has been hiding, Spike. She retreated into herself to mourn you then stayed to nurse her broken heart when she learned you were back but had not come to her or even attempted to contact her. She is living a lie and I fear that if she continues as such she will either one day decide that she can no longer keep up the façade, or she will slowly die inside, and either one will be catastrophic for both her and the man she is marrying under false pretenses. Because of this I am certain: the woman walking down the aisle this evening _will not_ be Buffy.”

“You can’t know this. How can you be so sure?” Spike demanded in a tortured tone.

“Because, after she saw you the other night she let the mask slip. Briefly.”

The pacing stopped and Spike met his eyes, whispering, “You…?”

“Was out for a walk. Thank goodness, I have come to understand in consultation with a very wise woman whose acquaintance I’ve recently had the pleasure of making. I have failed Buffy, more than once. I cannot go back in time and be there for her when I should have been but I can at least try to stop her from ruining her life now, as well as someone else’s, a man who is utterly blameless in all this.”

“If you’re so bloody sure she’s making a mistake, why not just tell her?”

“You’ve said it yourself, once she sets upon a course of action…”

Clearing his throat, Giles went on, “And we haven’t been as close as we once were. Things are different now.”

“Bet your arse they are, Watcher. So, you’re telling me… because? Oh, that’s right, _I’m_ supposed to do something about it, yeah? And probably have her stake me for my trouble.”

“We both know that would never happen. You must have seen it in her eyes the other night. Don’t tell me you didn’t. You could always read her. I suspect that’s why you’ve been buying up, or nicking, all the cheap whiskey to be had in this town. Besides, I firmly believe that I’m looking at the _only one_ who could possibly stop her now or I wouldn’t be here.”

Spike sank back onto the futon, dropped his head in his hands and muttered, “Trying to do the right bloody thing here, even if it’s killing me. What if you’re wrong? What if she doesn’t… I can’t… I don’t… know if I could stand it.”

Rising from the chair to leave, Giles stated, “Here is the thing I never would have believed I’d be saying when I boarded my flight the other morning to come here: You will find a way. For her. That’s what you do, Spike.”

As he opened the door to leave he heard Spike utter, “What now?”

Looking back, he replied, “First, a shower, a _long_ one. Maybe two. Then eat. I assume you have…?”

“Whole freezer full and Weetabix,” the vampire mumbled.

“Right. Get yourself sorted and I’m sure it will come to you.” Giles paused for a moment then turned fully around to face him again and inquired,

“Have you ever seen ‘The Graduate?’”

Blinking in confusion Spike responded, “Come again, Rupert?”

“’The Graduate,’ 1967, Dustin Hoffman…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Didn’t spend the 20th Century in a cave, did I? What the bloody hell’s that got to do with…”

“The ceremony,” Giles interrupted. “United Methodist Church in LaVerne, near the hotel.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s where the wedding scene was filmed.”

A beat… two… then,

“Why the buggering fuck would Buffy have her wedding _there?”_

“Groom’s family’s parish, apparently,” the watcher replied with a shrug.

“Bloody brilliant,” Spike commented shaking his head.

“Indeed,” Giles agreed then swiftly made his exit.

* * * *

Spike had made it as far as the external staircase leading to the second floor before he paused for one final moment of reflection on something monumentally stupid and/or potentially fatal. He could hear music playing and the congregation singing – a mid-ceremony hymn, probably, not that he was a qualified expert on early 21st Century weddings. He’d scarpered early on the last one he’d attended, which hadn’t ended well anyway. If he had his way this one wouldn’t end well either, for the _other_ bloke. It was now or never. Either Rupert was spot on or Buffy would be so outraged that he had crashed her wedding that she’d drop another pipe organ on him.

“She does and it’s gonna be _your_ job to wipe my arse, Rupert,” he muttered under his breath before taking the steps two at a time.

Neither the locked door nor the alarm provided any real challenge. He would make an excellent second story man, make a fortune in a town full of flash, trash and cash, were it not for the sodding soul. Instead, he was forced to swallow his pride and get by on Angel’s good graces, on the annuity his grandsire had set aside – as in embezzled from the evil law firm employing them both – for the unlikely event that he survived the fool’s errand that had been the battle against the Circle of the Black Thorn. Which he had, almost disappointingly with so little to look forward to he’d thought at the time. Right humiliating, it was. What the fuck did he have to offer her?

_Only herself if the Watcher is right._

Spike knew in his gut that he was. He strode over to the glass window overlooking the congregation and, speak of the devil, Peaches had already turned to glare up in his direction, eyes narrowing in that _Spike, so help me…_ way of his. He smiled and waved. Angel’s bird took notice, following her vampire lover’s gaze up then glancing nervously between the two of them. Lovely she was and fuck if Spike knew what she saw in His Broodiness, although he supposed a woman’s dating options were somewhat limited when she’d turn into Cujo every full moon.

A couple other guests sitting towards the back of the church had also taken notice of Angel facing the wrong direction and tracked his gaze, including another familiar to him, a single eye blinking up at him, the other covered by a patch. Another smile, another wave. The whelp blinked away as if trying to recall something. He’d get it. Spike had faith in him and when had he realized that he actually missed the pain in the ass? When had he started wondering how he was getting on, dealing with a loss Spike understood all too well even if his had only been temporary?

Harris’s head shot up, his brow furrowed as he mouthed, “You’re not.”

_Bingo! And, I am, son. Just you watch._

He shot him another grin and two thumbs up. Xander gulped then, wide-eyed, calmly turned around to face forward again.

_Huh. Wonders never._

Out of the corner of his eye he caught old grandad making a move to exit the pew but Nina stopped him with a tender but firm touch to his arm.

_Ta, pet. Owe you one._

Time was wasting. He pressed his forehead to the glass and brought his gaze to the front of the church and if his heart were beating it would stop. There she was, standing next to a tall, broad shouldered bloke with dark hair because, present company excluded, the Slayer was nothing if not predictable. Even from the back she was glorious in a strapless gown with a skirt that just seem to billow out forever. Like an angel floating on clouds. Like a yummy confection covered in whipped cream. He couldn’t help but smile. Nobody ever made his fangs itch like she did. Nobody ever made all the blood drain _away _from his brain like her. Pressing both palms to the glass he silently called out to her like a prayer, an entreaty to his own personal goddess.

_C’mon, love, know you can feel me here. S’not your imagination, pet. Really sodding here. Turn around. Know you think you can talk yourself into this, into being someone else, into being the woman who can be happy with Dr. Normal. Into being the woman who isn’t in love with the pathetic berk what went and got a soul then literally burned up for her. Because I see you, who you really are. Always have. Even when who you were was a bloody hazard. Know what I am, pet, and know that I am better than I was because of you. Also know I never had a bleeding choice in the matter. S’like I told you years ago when you were still a lovesick girl_ _… love isn’t brains, my dearest and most precious love, it’s blood – blood screaming inside you to make its will. Please show me that you can hear my blood, hear everything that I am, screaming for you. Should’ve told you the other night. Shouldn’t have left you on your own for so long. Never did before, did I? Even when we were trying to kill each other. I’ll spend every second of every day for the rest of your life making it up to you. All you have to do is turn around, Slayer… Buffy, love, please turn around. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

* * * *

“Excuse me?”

Buffy squeaked, suddenly unable to concentrate on the proceedings which was kind of a situation since the proceedings were her own wedding ceremony. That she was standing in the middle of. As in right now. Suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of Spike. Whom she _really_ should have staked years ago. If she _ever_ laid eyes on him again he’d end the encounter in a zip-lock bag because she was _so_ dusting him for blithely strolling into her mind in the middle of her wedding.

Smiling indulgently, the Pastor replied, “I said it is now time for the exchange of rings.”

“Oh," Buffy responded dumbly.

_Oh!?!?_

There were a few chuckles from the congregation. Buffy swallowed hard then unconsciously reached up to touch the back of her neck. Felt the hairs standing on end.

_Couldn’t be. He wouldn’t._

Of course not. It was Angel. Angel was there. She’d met his soulful eyes briefly as she’d walked up the aisle. Had to be it. Spike was likely hundreds of miles away by now beating up demons, drinking too much or literally charming the pants off some pretty young thing who didn’t know any better. Flashing too-blue eyes with annoying caterpillar lashes that had always weirdly reminded her of the skunk from _Bambi, _biting that obnoxiously full bottom lip of his, speaking with that stupid voice that was always halfway to a purr.

_Which really shouldn’t bother you this much or, like, at all when you’re standing at the altar at your own wedding._

“Buffy… darling?” spoke a voice that sounded far away. Not Spike’s. She couldn’t immediately place…

_ Jesus, Kevin!_

Her eyes snapped up to meet the Pastor’s. Sensing her disorientation, the woman asked,

“Buffy, do you need a moment? Perhaps a glass of water? Do you need to sit down?”

She looked down at the bouquet in her hands, at the pretty emerald cut diamond now on her right ring finger to make room for the wedding band that should have been slipped onto her left ring finger by now. She could hear whispering behind her. Kevin spoke again, softly, but still sounded far away. She could feel his hand on her forearm, his touch warm. Too warm. He was like a blast furnace.

“I think perhaps…” Another male voice broke in. A familiar one. A comforting one. Giles. It was Giles.

“Can I ask you something?” she croaked to no one in particular.

“What is it, Buffy?” Dawn replied this time. Very close. Obviously concerned.

“Is… Spike?” she whispered.

She felt her sister turn and heard her gasp. Her eyes slipped closed as her body was assaulted by a sensation so powerful that her knees almost gave out.

Relief.

“What the… who _is_ that?” To his credit Kevin sounded genuinely perplexed rather than angry.

“Just… ok, wow,” came the very typically Willow response. Buffy felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips.

The whispers had grown to a steady murmur by the time Buffy was able to turn around and lift her gaze. He was standing absolutely still, more still than a living man would be capable of, his forehead and hands pressed to the glass. His blue, blue eyes calm but resolute, his expression inscrutable. She looked away from him to take inventory of the assembled guests.

Excitement was beginning to overtake shock in Dawn’s eyes. Because, of course, this was Spike after all.

Willow nodded in a way that conveyed _whichever way you want this to go, I’ve got your back._ And did she ever, in ways that would scare the living shit out of most of the congregation if they knew the half of it.

Xander shrugged as if to say _maybe the next person to try this should just elope?_

Angel’s arms were folded and he looked annoyed but resigned, while Nina was clearly stifling amusement. Buffy liked her. She was good for him.

Kevin’s parents looked embarrassed and bewildered while hurt was starting to creep into the expression of their first born, moving unconsciously away from her and towards them as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Finally, her eyes settled on Giles who had, of course, just finished polishing his glasses. Popping them back onto his face, he raised his eyebrows at her and… smiled. Eyes widening in surprise, she smiled back before returning her gaze up to the man of the hour.

“Spike,” she mouthed and a wide smile unfurled across lips she’d missed so much. With speed as inhuman as his stillness had been he was at the doors to the sanctuary. He must have hopped clear over the railing, skipping the stairs entirely.

She felt a hand on her bare shoulder, shaking her, then, “What are you doing, Buffy? Who is this man? We need to have him removed. Someone, call the police.”

She spun around to find her father staring angrily at her. She had literally forgotten he was there. Kind of like he’d forgotten about her and Dawn until she got engaged to a guy whose family was loaded.

“Won’t be necessary, Dad. We’ll both be leaving.” Dawn squealed and it was eardrum-piercing.

“Buffy Anne Summers, you will do no such thing! You made a commitment to this…”

“Yeah, I did, but what can I say, I guess I’m my father’s daughter after all.”

With that she started to turn away from him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him reach out to grab her again and really hoped that she wouldn’t have to make things even more awkward than they already were by breaking her father’s thumbs. In church. On what was supposed to be her wedding day. Fortunately, an arm shot out and caught his.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Angel advised. “There are a few people in this room that you _really_ wouldn’t want to annoy, Mr. Summers.”

“You okay, pet?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled then opened them and blinked furiously.

“Spike, why are you holding _a giant cross_?”

He looked down at his smoking hands then quickly dropped it and shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. Shrugging, he replied,

“Guess I was getting into the spirit of the thing.”

Angel scoffed. Someone, she was pretty sure it was Xander, snorted. She furrowed her brow, shaking her head at her vampire. He answered by looking at her as if she were the most wondrous thing he had ever set eyes on. Several women, on both sides of the aisle, sighed audibly. She rolled her eyes then mouthed,

“Let’s get out of here.”

After handing her bouquet and engagement ring to Dawn, she moved quickly, clasping Spike’s hand as she charged down the aisle and dragging him out of the building. They ran across the parking lot, out onto the street and up the block to where Spike’s bike was parked.

“A motorcycle? Are you kidding me? Do you _not_ see how I’m dressed?”

“Sorry, love, didn’t wake up this morning planning to bust up your wedding or would’ve arranged alternate transport. Fancy waiting for the bus? Dunno if there really is a bus. Ever was. Probably not.” He looked around.

“Bus? What _are_ you talking about?”

“We could always go back and ask someone if we could…”

“Oh no, I’m not going back in there. Most humiliating moment of my life so, of course, you _would_ be at the center of it.”

He grinned and pulled her to him. Pressing his forehead to hers he whispered, “You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen.”

Leaning back, she rolled her eyes and replied, “Jeez, thanks, that means a lot.”

“Never thought I’d get to have a wedding night. Even if it is technically someone else’s.” He wagged his eyebrows.

“You’re a pig, Spike.” But she was smiling when she said it.

“That I am, but I’m your pig – hot, tight little body and slightly battered soul.”

He kissed her then and it felt like diving into a fresh, clear stream after wandering the desert for years. A passing car beeped and a wolf whistle came from across the street. She opened her right eye to meet his open left, her favorite eyebrow in all the world quirked at her. She could just imagine how it must look to passersby. Like, well, exactly what it was.

“We should be moving on, love,” he murmured against her lips. She nodded.

Reluctantly disengaging from his embrace, she turned to appraise the bike and commented, “We’ve stopped apocalypses, we ought to be able to figure this out.”

Sweeping his hands up her bare arms from behind her he observed, “You’re all goosebumps, pet. Here.”

He shrugged out of his duster and helped her into it then she lifted her skirt and bunched it up around the front of her to climb onto the back of his bike, flashing an eyeful of leg.

Tilting his head, he asked, “Don’t suppose you’ve got on one of those frilly blue garters?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she replied coyly.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growled then climbed on his bike.

“Yes, let’s,” she agreed and climbed on behind him as demurely as possible under the circumstances, arranging her skirt in a manner she hoped would make it possible to get to wherever they were headed without either crashing or attracting the attention of local law enforcement because there _had to be_ a law against this. Then she wound her arms tightly around him, pressing her cheek to the back of his neck, inhaling and sighing contentedly.

“This better not be a sodding dream,” he announced then started the bike and they were off.

Making their way west, towards the coast, Spike had apparently thought ahead about the route, sticking to back roads and off the freeway. At one intersection, they did pull up next to a busload of teenagers stopped at the red light. A girls’ sports team on the way home from a game by the looks of it. She looked up to see a couple dozen eyes affixed on them and realized that they were roughly the age she was when she first set eyes on him in the alley behind the Bronze. She smiled and winked as they pulled away when the light changed.

As they moved through the city the enormity of what had occurred over the past hour started to sink in. Buffy had left her fiancé at the altar with no explanation aside from the obvious bleach blond leather- and denim-clad wedding crasher she was now curled around like a vine. Pretty self-explanatory, she figured, but Kevin was entitled to a full and proper explanation. She would need to move out of their apartment in New York, divide up the things they had purchased together or maybe she’d just let him have it all since this fiasco was of her making. As long as she got to keep Sid, the blue-eyed grey kitten she had found while patrolling one night while Kevin had been out of town for work. That would all need to be arranged and it would be awful. She did love Kevin, she really did, but he wasn’t in every cell, every pore, of her being the way that Spike was.

And, God, she had left behind her sister, friends and even her first love and his girlfriend to deal not only with the groom’s side of the house but also her pissed-off, social-climbing father. And while on that topic, Angel had had their backs. Both of them. Things really _had changed_ between him and Spike since Sunnydale. And what was the deal with Giles? She couldn’t shake the notion that he had a major hand in the way this surreal evening had played out and made a mental note to ask Spike about it.

The entire course of her life had changed in a few minutes. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. Buffy squeezed Spike even tighter, so tightly he wouldn’t be able to breath. Lucky for her he didn’t need to as they sped through the night towards whatever would come next.

**FIN**


End file.
